Sky and Land
by ImperialBoredom
Summary: Idle chatter between two captives by a cell window. Contains spoilers. See notes at beginning.


_A/N: Greetings all. I would like to take a moment to explain the weirdness you are about to read. I've taken to lurking on the Avengers kink-meme and that Darcy Lewis tumblr. I originally wanted to post something for the Darcy Lewis Crossover Week, but couldn't make up my mind on what to write. (It was between the Magic School Bus, Dr. Who, and Sherlock.) Then, I posted an Omegaverse prompt on the aforementioned kink-meme that was filled by a fabulous anon. A thought crossed my mind while reading that wonderful fill. Out of all the A/B/O prompts I've seen on both the Avengers and Sherlock kink-memes, I have never seen one that dealt with the issue of human trafficking. (I have an explanation for this that I won't go into here.) After some thinking, I commenced to write what you are about to read. Alas, after watching the Coyotl episode of Grimm, I'm not sure whether to put this in the Grimm-verse or the Omegaverse._

_Warning: this does touch on human trafficking (at least in the way it came out). It also does contain spoilers that are mostly on the Sherlock side of things, but do take care while reading._

_Finally, this will likely be a one-shot. _

OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO OOOOOOOOOOOOO

The little window in the cell provided Darcy with a narrow view of where she and her fellow captives were being held. Unfortunately, it did not provide much. Green flatlands stretched as far her wearied eyes could see. She could spy no hint of habitation, road or even animals. This confirmed her suspicion that all of the captives were being held in some remote corner of the world. The only thing that changed, reminding Darcy that there was still a world beyond the cell, was the sky. The celestial vault had not failed in its capacity to echo moods. When Darcy had first peeked out the window, the sky was a gorgeous cerulean blue. The sun illuminated the sky as the blue seemed to crackle with divine light. Despite the beauty, Darcy had felt someone somewhere was mocking her situation. At night, she had watched the divine sky drape itself in swathes of inky blues and raven blacks. Darcy saw it as a mourning shroud. Apparently, that someone had finally understood the situation she and the other captives were in. Since then, the sky had not been so joyous. Clarity was replaced by clouds or dimmed brilliance. On this day, the sky was entombed under blankets of clouds. The clouds ranged in color from smoky white to garlic grey. They did not swirl or sway, remaining idle where they were.

"Darcy?"

Darcy did not bother looking over her shoulder. "Yeah, Molly?"

Molly gently crept to her feet, taking care not to wake the slumbering child next to her. Her bones and muscles cracked and whimpered from sitting too long. She took a moment to stretch, eyeing the rest of the cell. Huddled in piles were male and female children, teenagers, and young adults of various ages. The weak light that filtered around Darcy's head barely illuminated each pile, casting them as shapeless lumps. Molly could see what the light could not. The piles were terrified souls who knew not if they would ever see home and family again. By Molly's reckoning, it had been a month since they had been dumped the cell. A month of wondering whether Lestrade would come for her.

Molly gingerly moved towards the window. She took care not accidentally step on any stray limb that jutted out from pile. Upon reaching the window, she cast a studious eye at Darcy. Darcy's long locks were matted and filthy, clinging her head and neck like furry tentacles. Her creamy skin was ashen in the light. Her luminous eyes were squinted and bloodshot. The bruise she had received the previous day marred her left cheek. The skin was a blotchy purple with hints of greenish-yellow. A captor had tried to force a man Darcy's age to perform a sex act. Seeing the man's weakened physical state, Darcy intervened. The bruise was her reward for her interference. Darcy's neck worried Molly. It appeared fragile, too delicate for Molly's liking. Molly wondered if Darcy was sharing her rations with some of the children who could not reach the slop their captors tossed into their cell every other day. Unlike many of the other captives, Darcy did not bear marks of abuse on her body. The bruise on her face was an anomaly. The ringleader of the operation believed she would fetch a high price and ordered that she be treated better than the others. He had been, to put it lightly, displeased when he came to inspect the cells and captives and beheld her bruise and shrinking physique. Darcy had been moved to Molly's cell as the captives were more docile.

Sensing Molly's stare, Darcy turned her head and looked at her. She had no trouble seeing Molly's concern in the dim light. Darcy knew she looked horrible. She also knew Molly looked just as horrible. Molly's brown locks had been hacked to shreds by an angry captor who loathed her for some unknown reason. Darcy had done her best to treat the cuts that adorned her scalp. Her ashen skin stretched taut over her face. Her nervous eyes seemed to pop out slightly. Molly's kind nature was partially responsible for this. She always shared her meager rations with the children who could not reach the slop. The thought of allowing a child to starve just so she could live did not sit well with her. (Darcy could not blame her. She herself shared her own rations and ignored her howling survival instinct. The thought of letting children starve for her own survival made her heart hurt.) Molly's face was not ruined by bruises. Darcy, though, knew Molly's arm bore evidence of violence. Darcy had been in a different cell when it happened, but heard the screams. Molly had shielded a young boy from a whipping by a captor. Her raised arm had taken the brunt of the beating. Darcy had never seen the angry stripes that now decorated Molly's arm. Unlike Darcy, the ringleader believed Molly would not fetch a high price. Both knew that Molly and several others would be sold off first if not rescued.

For a few silent moments, the two looked at each. They analyzed and categorized the other's physical degradations. The silence was not awkward. After a moment, Molly broke the silence.

"Anything interesting outside?" she asked.

Darcy moved away from the window and made an 'after-you' gesture with her hand. Molly moved to where Darcy had been and looked outside. She was greeted with the green flatlands and the idle clouds. Had she been free, Molly would have enjoyed looking amongst the clouds for weird shapes and things. All she could see was that the clouds were now becoming a uniform silver color. She cast her gaze to the flatlands. She wondered what part of the world she and her fellow captives were in. Europe, the U.S., and Central Asia all came to mind.

With a sigh, she remarked, "Nothing. Not a single bloody thing. I think they put us in here like this on purpose."

Leaning against the wall beside the window, Darcy rubbed her neck. "How do you figure?"

Molly shrugged. "I mean, we know we're somewhere, but I think they put us in some building that purposely faces away from any sort of landmarks. That way, if one of us tries to escape, we won't know where to go because we don't know where are."

"Don't forget that they would pick us off easily 'cause there's no cover," said Darcy. She leaned back against the wall beside the window. "Besides, we have no idea if we're on some bastard's private estate or in the middle of Mongolia."

"Couldn't be Mongolia," said Molly as she rubbed her eyes. "It's too warm to be Mongolia. I still think we're in the American Midwest. They've got nice, flat land."

Darcy snorted. "They're still in a drought so the land would look dead."

Molly fell silent for a moment before asking, "I thought they had that massive storm system that caused all that flooding."

Darcy shook her head. "That was over Georgia and Alabama."

Silence fell over the two. Darcy decided standing was dull and slid down the wall to sit on the floor. Molly looked out of the window for a few more minutes before looking at Darcy. Seeing her on the floor, Molly decided to join. The two sat on the floor in silence, staring at the sleeping piles before them. Save for the odd snore or gasp, the other captives were quiet. Silence ruled until Molly asked the one question that each of them pondered regularly.

"Do you think anyone is looking for us?"

Darcy did not answer immediately. It was a question that had often kept her awake late into the night. What troubled her was the fact the people she knew had not come to rescue her. She knew she did not rank high in the SHIELD totem pole. Unofficially, she was the nanny/assistant/voice of reason to the girlfriend of one of the Avengers. Officially, she was a low-ranking worker who could be counted on to get things done through the gratuitous use of wheedling and common sense. Through Jane, she had connections to the Avengers the eager agents clamored for. This had resulted in some snide gossip about her sleeping with somebody important. How could such a _nobody_ could be associated with people like Tony Stark, the great Captain America and an actual deity? Darcy was now wondering if she really was nobody to Jane, Thor, Coulson, and the other Avengers.

Sensing Darcy's pensive mood, Molly thought it best to continue speaking. "I know somebody has to be looking for us. I'll admit that it's not uncommon for people to vanish, but there's so many of us. Somebody must be missing us. I know Sherlock-"

"Sherlock?" came Darcy's incredulous voice, "_Sherlock_? What evil woman would name their kid Sherlock?"

"If it helps, he has a brother named Mycroft," replied Molly with a chuckle.

Darcy would have rolled her eyes had they not been so sore. "Seriously?"

Molly, glad to hear the light note in Darcy's voice, continued. "Yep. Sherlock and Mycroft Holmes. Mycroft has some post in the British government, but I still have no idea what he actually does. He's absolutely intimidating and a bit condescending. I think he's in love with his umbrella because I've never seen him without it." She paused, taking in Darcy's reaction. Seeing amusement, Molly plodded on. "Sherlock is brilliant. Absolutely brilliant, but he's also very condescending. Well, he still is condescending, but not as bad as before. He's calmed down a bit ever since he came back."

"Did he go somewhere?" asked Darcy.

"He was gone for three years," said Molly quietly. Sherlock had not offered many details as to his exploits after he had left the morgue of St. Bart's. She had noticed that he became rather subdued if anything about them was brought up. Molly only spoke of what he had told her. Deciding not to go into great detail, she summarized events. "He had gotten blamed for things he hadn't done. He and the man responsible met on the rooftop of the hospital where I worked. Sherlock had to fake his death to save the people he cared about. He told me that the very last thing he did before he left was to go to his own gravesite to see who would show up. Only two people came to pay their respects that day and one of them was someone who mattered a lot to him."

"His wife?" asked Darcy.

"No, but they're someone who's a vital part of Sherlock's life." Molly leaned her head against the wall. "What about you? Any oddballs in your life?"

Darcy snorted. "Where do I begin?" She tilted her head towards Molly. "I'm used to be the intern of an astrophysicist who is the world's primary consumer of Pop-Tarts. She is currently dating a god who has a brother who tried to take over the world because he's a bitch. The good god happens to be comrades with a genius billionaire who is also one of the world's biggest sluts."

"What's the billionaire's name," asked Molly, genuine interest in her voice.

Darcy did not hesitate in answering. "Are you familiar with Tony Stark?"

There was a moment of silence before a gasp confirmed Molly's answer. She reached out and clasped a hand on Darcy's arm. "You know Iron Man?! The actual Iron Man! Then, that god would be-"

"-Thor," confirmed Darcy, inwardly smiling at Molly's glee. "He also likes Pop-Tarts, but cannot compete with Jane's love for them. Anyway, there's also Captain America. Despite popular reports, he's actually doing a good job adapting to the modern age. He still, though, hasn't gotten the hang of some technology. There's also the Black Widow. She's the scariest one 'cause she knows how to kill a man with an eyelash. She and Hawkeye are bros, but Hawkeye is bros with anyone who can put up with his hobby of hiding in the air shafts. Tony sent a camera up one of the shafts that runs over his kitchen and found Hawkeye eating a cheesecake he had stolen out of the fridge. Tony was not happy. That was the last cheesecake in the entire Tower because Thor ate them all," she added in a conspiratorial whisper. "Finally, we come to the Hulk, who happens to be the alter-ego of a very patient scientist who will one day become Tony's Science Husband. There is a betting pool as to when Tony will finally crack and propose. The winner gets to plan the wedding and gets a nice wad of cash."

"How much is in the pool?" asked Molly.

Darcy shrugged. "Last I checked, it was up to over fifty-grand."

"So it sounds like you're good friends with them," said Molly.

Though the light was still weak, Molly could see Darcy stiffen. When she spoke, Molly could hear the underlying disappointment in her words. "I thought I was a friend." Darcy looked at Molly directly. "But I'm still here. I guess I'm not a top priority."

"Don't say that," said Molly soothingly. Her clasping hand loosened to a comforting hold. "I'm sure they're looking. Somebody has to be looking for us."

"It's been a month since we were taken, Molly," replied Darcy, "If someone knew where we were, they would have sent people to get us. Either that or our wardens would have moved us if somebody was coming. They've kept us here, in this same spot, for a month. No one knows where we are. Hell, they might not even care."

A flicker of anger erupted in Molly. "Don't talk like that. I know I have people who care about me who are missing me. And despite what you think, you have people who are missing you because they care."

"Molly, my people have some of the most sophisticated technology at their disposal. If they can't find me with that, what makes you think your people will find you?"

Molly had no retort. In truth, Sherlock's brain and Mycroft's mystery connections to important people would only get them so far. Sherlock would likely realize the gravity of their situation if he had the needed evidence. Mycroft could use his connections to get an idea as to where they might be. Yet an unscrupulous individual, paid off or with a hand in the actual sale, could pass on a false morsel of information that would send searchers off the trail. If they realized their mistake too late, the captives would already be scattered to the hands of buyers. Molly could not bear to think of the soulless beasts clamoring to have a frightened child or weakened adult at their mercy.

"What do you think is going to happen to us?" she blurted out.

Darcy did not answer right then. She gingerly slid to her feet, turned, and looked out the window. The blanket of clouds had grown thicker. The silver Molly had seen was darkening to steel. A flicker of Tony in his lab flashed through her mind. She wondered what he and the other Avengers were doing. Were they off saving the world from cosmic nonsense? Questions floated through her weary head. Was Steve getting the hang of the toaster oven Thor had almost broken? Were Natasha and Clint off doing spy stuff?

_Were any of them missing her?_

Darcy stepped aside a bit when Molly stood up and joined her at the window. They stared in quiet silence, eyes falling to the point where dark sky embraced the green land. After a moment's contemplation over their fates, Darcy answered Molly.

"Realistically, every person in every cell they have is going to get sold off like pigs. We're going to be purchased by animals that frankly don't care if they're breaking every unwritten moral law in the universe. To them, we're chattel, things to be used and discarded once we've done what they've wanted. They'll ignore the fact their cultures and society are at fault. They'll just blame us, saying that we deserve all the miseries they'll inflict on us."

She paused, looking at Molly. Molly was looking at her, fear and sadness etching themselves onto her haggard face.

"Ideally," continued Darcy, "our loved ones will figure out where we are. They'll come for us. We'll be saved and reunited with the people who need us. Unfortunately, that's looking like a pipe dream."

The two turned their gazes back to the land and sky beyond. They remained there until the piles began to stir. They remained there until one of their captors traipsed to their cell and tossed in the day's slop. They tore themselves away from the window, and the thoughts of their loved ones, to get their sustenance.

Had they the sight to see to their respective homes, they would have found that they were missed. Their absences had occupied the thoughts of their loved ones from waking until sleep. No path of inquiry was spared in the quest to regain the missing.

For Molly, Lestrade had devoted his every waking moment to regaining her. He had been removed the actual investigation as his superiors feared his frantic guilt would cause problems. Lestrade, though, had not remained idle. Sherlock allowed him to participate in his own investigation into Molly's disappearance. He spared nothing from Lestrade, especially the possibility that Molly may have been abducted by traffickers. The mere thought of this ignited a fiery determination within Lestrade. He may have allowed his blind jealousy to drive her away, but he would not lose her. John and Mrs. Hudson had provided steadying support. Mycroft had become quite useful, opening doors for Sherlock's inquiries. Lestrade was pleased that Dimmock, the lead on Molly's disappearance, shared information. What displeased him was the fact that little headway was being made in the investigation.

Despite Darcy's assumptions, she was missed by Jane, Thor, Coulson, and the other Avengers. Her sudden disappearance screamed of kidnapping, but the thoroughness of her abductors hinted at professionals. There were no demands for ransom or anything in exchange for Darcy's freedom. Natasha suspected the involvement of human traffickers as some of her past missions dealt with similar situations. The thought of their sassy Taser Queen being sold off like a piece of cattle did not sit well with anyone. Jane had created a webpage on Darcy's disappearance, pleading for information and tips. She had also created fliers and distributed them wherever she could. Thor had returned to Asgard to seek Heimdall's aid and to question Loki. (Loki insisted that he had nothing to do with the disappearance and was genuinely disgusted that Thor would think he would stoop that low.) When not on missions, Natasha and Clint reviewed missions that focused on human trafficking. Tony ordered JARVIS to gather security footage from the day of Darcy's disappearance. He and Bruce studied the footage, seeking any clues that may have been missed. Steve had joined Coulson when the latter had gone to speak with a SHIELD agent overseeing trafficking cases. He wanted to learn about the industry that destroyed innumerable lives for the glory of cruel profits.

What Steve learned made him fear for Darcy and those who had been snatched.


End file.
